


Business Trip

by SparklyRainbowRain



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: 5.0.5 is a responsible bear, Boss/Employee Bonding, Darkish Humor, Eventual villain/hero conflict, Fluff, Flug is a good friend, Gen, Humor, Non-Graphic Violence, Pretty lighthearted stuff, Very Brief Body Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklyRainbowRain/pseuds/SparklyRainbowRain
Summary: Black Hat and Flug go on a business trip, leaving Dementia and 5.0.5 to do who knows what.





	1. Intro

   “Aww, but why can't _we_ come?”

   “You know very well why only Flug and I are going, Dementia!”, Black Hat said, throwing a rather heavy-looking suitcase into the doctor's arms. His knees wobbled under the weight, but he stood his ground. 5.0.5 whimpered and, with concern written all over his face, tried to take the luggage from his poor friend. However, Flug shook his head and continued to carry it on his own, perhaps thinking that his boss would punish the bear for allowing him to ‘slack off’.

   “You're much too… yourself to be seen anywhere outside of the house," Black Hat continued. “Besides, someone could end up recognizing you and then they'd start asking questions.” He scowled and adjusted the strap of a handbag that was about fifteen times lighter than Flug's burden.

    Dementia considered her boss’s words for a moment and giggled. Being someone who knew BH like the back of her partially gloved hand, she could tell with one hundred percent accuracy what he was doing.

   “Oh, I get it~”, she purred, playfully twirling the locks of her ponytail. “You just want me _aaaall to yourself._ ” The lizard girl threw in a wink for a romantic effect.

   “Well, if you’re totally sure you can survive a week without _this_ …”

    Here, she gestured to her entire body.

   “...I’ll stay here. Just try not to have too much fun without me, ‘kay?” Dementia blew a kiss in Black Hat's general direction and grinned, showing off the pair of fangs that she was immensely proud of.

    Black Hat must have been in a bad mood or something because he didn't look to be sharing any of his employee’s enthusiasm or returning her subtle affections. Instead, he grimaced and took a few steps back.

   “Rest assured, we're not going to have _fun_ of any sort," the demon replied drily. “This is a professional business trip. They're always dull as dirt and half as memorable.”

   “I-I wouldn't say that sir,” Flug piped up in a strained voice. “We've- _oh, geez_ \- had a few- _so heavy_ \- happy memories before.” His eyelids curved upwards in what could have been a slight smile.

    Black Hat simply scoffed and folded his arms. Dementia's interest, by contrast, was piqued.

   “Ooh! Where ya goin’ this time? Somewhere awesome? Can you guys bring back a souvenir?”, she asked, eager to add to the shelves upon shelves of figurines and novelty clothes that lined her bedroom.

  “Company funds are not meant to be squandered on bloody knick-knacks!”, Black Hat snapped. “We'll only spend what has to be spent. A villains’ get-together is no place for impulse buying.”

   He glared pointedly at Dr. Flug, who was known to sneak merchandise for his co-workers whenever he had to go anywhere. His not-so-secret operations had given him plenty of (albeit temporary) respect from Dementia, and several fluffy bear hugs from 5.0.5.

   Of course, Black Hat was far from pleased, but he didn't do anything as long as it came from the doctor's paycheck. Now, Flug expected that if he used money from anywhere else…

   Then Black Hat would have to remind his minion why he was the head of the organization.

   The scientist was much too preoccupied with handling his monster-sized suitcase to be more fearful of his boss than usual, though. Dementia flashed him a thumbs up to wish him luck. He was gonna need it if he planned on going against Black Hat's wishes.

   The demon cleared his throat, although it sounded more like animalistic growling.

   “If we're done here, Flug and I need to leave. If we stick around much longer, I believe our poor doctor will collapse like a house of cards. Then I'd have to carry everything myself," he said, turning toward the doorway and beckoning his subordinate to follow.

    Relieved beyond all measure that the subject had been changed and he could finally get moving, Flug made his way to the front door. After a couple of steps, the rhythmic clacking of expensive footwear beside him abruptly ended. The doctor looked to his left, gasping in surprise and dismay as Black Hat twisted his head 180 degrees to meet Dementia's eyes, his body unmoving.

   “Ah, right. I almost forgot,” he began casually as if he’d just remembered that he left the tap running and didn't look like a car crash victim.

    There was a whoosh of air and Dementia found herself mere inches from her boss’s face. She beamed at first, but then shrank back when she noticed his mangled, tooth-covered form.

  **“If I come back and you've damaged any part of the mansion,"**  he hissed, **“any harm you idiots will have caused will be inflicted upon you tenfold. Am I clear?”**

   Dementia shuddered, feeling the warning reverberate through her skull like one of her many jam sessions. Even she wasn't above being a little intimidated by Black Hat. She was human, after all.

   Well, more or less, anyway.

   She gathered her wits and managed a small nod. There was a sickening visceral noise followed by the twisting and molding of flesh. In the blink of an eye, the demon was back to his handsome self, much to Dementia's delight.

   “Of course, the bear will be around to keep you out of trouble. At least he's not a failure in that respect," Black Hat muttered, strolling back to the door.

   If 5.0.5 registered any of that, Dementia couldn't tell. He was still in shock from before, eyes wide and flower wilted.

   At the first sign of movement, Flug had wisely bolted outside before his boss could change his mind. Black Hat rolled his visible eye but didn't make any snide remarks at his subordinate’s expense.

   “Enjoy your week of isolation~”, he called over his shoulder.

 _WHUMP_.

   The door slammed shut, and then the mansion was filled with deafening silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the introduction! The next chapter (featuring Flug and Black Hat) will probably be less cluttered.


	2. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat and Flug embark on a thrilling (but mostly awkward) journey. Think of it like one of those annoying car trips.

   Flug sat in the plush passenger seat of the company car, a sleek black thing that his employer had insisted was a Rolls-Royce despite having a top hat where the distinctive front markings would usually be.

   The engine was not yet turned on; Black Hat, the driver, had been gripping the steering wheel and staring off into space for three solid minutes. The doctor could have sworn that he heard his boss muttering something to himself. He wondered for a moment if Black Hat had forgotten how to start a car. It wouldn’t have been his first time being lost to the functions of modern technology.

   Flug started to form a question, but the words stuck in his throat as he was interrupted.

 **“I have something to tell you,”** Black Hat blurted out in a volume a little too high for the inside of a vehicle.

   Dr. Flug jumped at the sudden noise, but the demon, fortunately, didn’t seem to notice.

  “Uh, fire away, _Jefecito_.”

   Black Hat released his hold on the wheel and rubbed his temples before continuing.

  “There is no business trip, Flug,” he began. “I needed an excuse to clear my head. It's nearly impossible to run an organization without a single break from those _morons_.”

   Honestly, the doctor sort of understood what he meant. Who knows how many hours of hard work Flug had lost to Dementia's nonsense? As for 5.0.5, well, he was a comparatively better lab partner and had only caused trouble whenever the bear had accidentally knocked over something crucial to his experiment. Most of the time, he would just peer over Flug’s shoulder and occasionally fetch his friend what he needed. For this reason, it was a sorry fact that Flug would have preferred to stay behind rather than ride shotgun with his boss on a meandering drive to who knows where.

  “So… where are we going?”, The doctor asked.

   “I am open to suggestions,”

   Was Black Hat asking for his opinion? It was about time! All the demon ever did or thought about was evil, and it was starting to get boring and predictable. Still, it was best to make sure that he was being serious to avoid looking like a gullible idiot.

  “With all due respect, sir, do you not have anywhere in mind? Any place you go to feel better?”, Flug asked.

   This only made Black Hat chuckle. “Do you really want to go somewhere of my choosing? I doubt you'd last a day, let alone seven,” he teased. “No, I'd like to know what you think. See how others kill time. Maybe I'll learn something.” He smiled in a manner that would have been friendly were it not for his razor-sharp fangs. Flug gulped.

  “W-well, we could go-”

  “No! On second thought, don't tell me. I want it to be a surprise. Just enter the address into the, er… computerized map.” The demon gestured to a GPS that Flug had designed about a month ago. It was a simple matter of taking key components from existing global positioning systems and adding some improvements of his own. For example, the map itself had complete visibility of any location on Earth, including classified areas like the secret hideouts of heroes and villains alike. Such a function was rendered useless in this situation since the destination that Flug decided to type in was anything but secret. He hit ‘Enter’, hearing a pre-recorded feminine voice chirp out the distance as Black Hat began to maneuver the car into the road.

_“Shortest route: Four hundred and four miles.”_

   The scientist frowned. Not counting the inevitable bathroom breaks and stops for gas, it would take at least six hours. It seemed like a deal breaker to him; his employer was hardly the patient type.

  “Oh, _fantastic_ ,” Black Hat said, sighing. “I suppose we'll have to break the sound barrier, then.”

   Flug blinked, wondering if his boss was just messing with him. Before he could draw any solid conclusions, though, Black Hat grinned, pulling a lever that was previously hidden by a hatch next to the gearshift. The tires spun and resisted at first, but then they somehow adapted and started cruising forward.

   The doctor could feel himself being pushed back into his seat as the engine revved with more and more power. He grasped at the seat belt, frantically tightening it until his abdomen felt numb. Trees and houses blurred. Flug felt like vomiting but his stomach had probably become two-dimensional at this rate.

   Trying to calm down, he breathed in and out, focusing on the sound of the car. Surprisingly, it wasn't making much noise considering its speed; if his heart wasn't pressed against the back of his ribcage, he would’ve considered this a pleasant drive.

   The relative silence was broken by a jarring _BANG_ , causing Flug's ears to ring. His eyes watered as the vehicle shot forward with even more force.

 _A sonic boom_ , he thought in a daze. So Black Hat wasn't kidding. He should've known his boss was a speed demon.

   Well, that might have been a poor choice of words.

   Cackling, Black Hat plowed through anything and everything in his path-- from oncoming traffic to construction sites-- like the obstacles were nothing more than piles of leaves. Who knows if they were even on the road anymore? Flug couldn't recall them making any turns, even while they were in the suburbs. Any attempt of getting his bearings through the windshield was immediately met with failure; all he could see were streaks of color.

   Out of any other options and far too panicked to form any coherent words of protest, he shut his eyes tight and prayed for some kind of release. Anything would be preferable to this. Flug could remember reading somewhere that planes were far safer travel than cars, so a crash was all but inevitable. _Maybe it’ll be a quick one_ , he thought bitterly, accepting his fate.

   After what could have only been a few grueling minutes, Flug could feel the gas starting to ease up. Curious, he opened his eyes and examined the speedometer, which was a full circle. The tiny arrow seemed to be creeping backward. Little by little, the car’s speed decreased until it resembled something actually feasible for other, normal vehicles. They were still driving at a steady 85 miles per hour, but it wasn't too out of place on a highway.

  “Stupid thing,” Black Hat muttered out of the blue. “Almost out of bloody fuel. We'll have to stop at the next petrol station.”

   Flug smiled in relief. Even though the boost was meant to shorten their journey, it had so far only made the trip feel much longer than it had actually been. He looked forward to a nice breath of fresh air.

   The car screeched to a stop at a mostly deserted gas station. There weren't very many pumps to go around, but they ended up finding a vacant one.

   While Black Hat filled up the Rolls-Royce, Flug went inside to “do whatever it is humans do”, as his boss had put it. After some freshening up in the restroom, he bought some sparkling lemonade to settle his stomach. The cashier gave him a weird look during the entire transaction, but he was too used to those kinds of reactions to let it get to him.

   Sipping his drink, he pulled open the door and reunited with Black Hat, who was busy slashing the tires of a parked sedan with his ungloved claws. Once he saw Flug approaching, he gave the vehicle one last scratch for good measure and re-covered his hands.

  “Did you pay for the gasoline?”, the demon asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Good.”

   They climbed into the company car and resumed their travel. The remaining hours were spent in relative silence, peppered with Flug trying to break the ice every now and then. None of his prompts really stuck, so each time, he was left feeling uncomfortable and a tad frustrated.

  “Seen any good movies lately?”

  “I don't watch movies, Flug.”

  “R-right…”

   And so it continued in this fashion until the car finally rolled into its destination.

   There, in the heart of a city hundreds of miles away from home, loomed an expansive one-story building that would have been intimidating were it not for the close proximity to several much larger skyscrapers.

   The building was surrounded on all sides by a sprawling parking lot, filled to the brim with cars and smiling people, some of whom were dressed in outlandish or questionable outfits. The architecture itself wasn't too remarkable; it resembled a concrete box, vertically striped with shining panes of glass. The real fun, Flug knew, could be found inside.

   With the car successfully parked (and the parking meter next to it reduced to a pile of metal), the duo made their way to the entrance.

   All of a sudden, Black Hat stopped dead in his tracks, Flug following suit in confusion. The demon glowered at a large flapping sign on the front of the building.

  “You have got to be kidding.”

   The sign read “ _Hero Con_ ”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! What will happen next? Tune in next chapter for a little bit of Dementia's perspective.


	3. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dementia decides to have a little fun in Black Hat's absence, which worries 5.0.5.

   As the rumbling of the engine faded away until it only existed in her memory, a devious smile crept up Dementia’s face. A plan was already being formed for how she and 5.0.5 would spend their vacation, and with the two biggest sticks in the mud out of the way, it was sure to go off without a hitch.

   “You ready for the best week of your life, big guy?”, she asked, nudging the bear with her elbow.

   He let out an inquisitive grunt, tilting his furry blue head to the side.

  “Yeah, the _best_ ,” Dementia said, smirking. “In fact, you might even meet some new friends!”

   Despite the mention of friendship, 5.0.5 seemed apprehensive; Black Hat's warning must have still been fresh in his brain. _What a worrywart_ , Dementia thought, snorting.

  “Aww, c'mon, it's okay,” she said somewhat reassuringly. “I'll just invite a couple people I know. Trust me, it'll be fun!”

   5.0.5 huffed and crossed his arms, causing Dementia to pout. True, her idea of “fun” was sort of chaotic, but it wasn't anything _dangerous_. They were perfectly safe.

  Just as long as they didn't get caught.

  “Look, bear, I've got it all under control,” she promised. “I'm very picky with my friends. We'll have, like, six guests, tops.”

   To tell the truth, Dementia actually knew several dozen people on the internet, and even that was just her inner circle.

   On NefariNet, a villains’ forum that she visited often, she was known as the premium source of info on Black Hat Organization. Specifically, gossip about its handsome CEO, which appealed to fangirls similar to herself. It was almost like a second job of hers, posting exclusive pictures and snippets of trivia in exchange for advice on how to win Black Hat over. She had, in fact, made most of her friends by doing so.

   She figured that now was as good a time as any to meet them face to face.

   Dementia pushed 5.0.5 aside and flung herself onto a springy sofa. Digging through the cushions, she pulled out the laptop she’d hidden there and opened it up. With a quick type of the password, the computer took her to her most used website, which just so happened to be NefariNet.

   Creating a new public post, she began typing.

_BIG NEWS GUYS_

_Crazy party at BH’s mansion!_ _Friday 7 pm!_

_Hat Island, Hat Avenue_

_Manor #333_

_Hatsville_

_Keep it secret!!!_

   She hit “post”, frequently refreshing the page and then smiling with satisfaction as her invite was soon met with plenty of responses saying they’d make it. Dementia cracked her knuckles and leaned back lazily on the couch.

   “Welp, the invitations are taken care of. And the party’s in five days, so we have all the time in the world to get it ready!”, she said, pushing the laptop off and kicking her feet up on the coffee table. 

    The lizard girl glanced at 5.0.5, who had his paws on his hips in disapproval. Apparently, he was still on the fence about the whole thing. Go figure.

    Dementia blew a raspberry at him. “I can handle a little mess. I'm a pro at making them, so how hard could cleaning one be?”

    5.0.5 frowned, probably remembering some random mess that was totally not her fault.

   “Hey, I didn't ask for your opinion!”, Dementia said, sticking out her tongue.”You'll see how amazing I am once I set up a bunch of rad decorations!”

    She threw herself off of the sofa and stormed out of the room, stomping every step of the way. A few seconds later she re-emerged from the doorway, a sheepish look on her face.

   “Uh… you o.k. with helping me decorate?”

    5.0.5 sighed and nodded.

* * *

     

   In the darkness of his top secret hideout,  a lone hero was busy scouring the most despicable reaches of the internet, desperate for any crime that would warrant immediate action. As white light from the monitor washed over his masked face, the hero found just what he needed.

   It seemed that an employee of Black Hat himself had mistakenly posted the organization's address on a well-known website for supervillains. It had even found its way to the front page! 

  After a quick background check of the user who'd posted the address, the hero determined that it had come from a reliable source; MissBH13, as the username read, had a history of sending such obscure facts about the demon that not even the Vault of Villains had a record of them.

  If MissBH13 was even more reliable than an entire archive of archenemies, then the hero was willing to take her word for it. Luckily, the date gave him just enough time for the preparations and subsequent travel to Hat Island.

   _Well,_ he thought, rising from his desk,  _looks like I have a party to crash._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the introduction of our hero character! 
> 
> The next chapter will switch back to Flug and Black Hat.


	4. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat and Dr. Flug enter a contest at Hero Con.

   “ _Flug_ ,” Black Hat growled, clenching his teeth, “why on Earth did you take us to a convention for heroes? This is the last place we should be!” He turned to the doctor, his visible eye glowing and twitching madly.

   “I-it's not what you think, sir!”, Flug said, shrinking from his boss a little. “This is actually the most logical course of action!”

    Black Hat raised an eyebrow, some of his anger fizzling away into confusion. “What are you blathering about?” 

   “Well, um, there are hardly any heroes here at all. The majority of convention-goers are just… fans.” Flug gestured to a tired-looking teenage girl wearing a gray shirt that said: “ _This is My Super Suit_ ”.

   “What do adolescents have to do with air-blowing appliances?”, Black Hat asked, looking at the teen in bewilderment.

     It took all of Flug's willpower to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

   “That- that's not... “ He cleared his throat and started again. “These fans are like toned-down versions of Dementia.”

    Black Hat stuck out his tongue in disgust. “So you brought me here as some form of torture, then? I'd be impressed if you weren't so infuriating.”

   “Oh, well- um, thank you, I think,” Flug said, “but that's not why we're here. You see, since so many people are going to be in costume, it'll be easier for us to blend in! A- anywhere else, we'd draw _way_ too much attention to ourselves.”

    Black Hat seemed to ponder this for a second. “Hmph. You should've told me sooner,” he grumbled.

    The duo headed over to the entrance, but they were met with some trouble when Flug remembered that he didn't buy any tickets. Thankfully, a nearby young and wealthy-looking couple happened to have a few all-access passes on hand. The couple wasn't too upset about giving them up, though; the two were soon engaged in a conversation with Black Hat, which kept them nice and distracted while Flug did the dirty work of nabbing the passes.

    Finally, after scanning their laminated cards on a machine, they strolled inside. Flug smiled with satisfaction, taking in the view.

    The convention was bustling with fans of all shapes and sizes, whether they wore costumes or just casual clothing. Friendly and enthusiastic conversations from all over blended into a strange but charming kind of harmony. The sheer number of people was rather impressive, but it still wasn't enough to stop Flug from appreciating the openness of the building. In fact, the ceilings looked almost high enough for a small plane to be flown through the place. Not that he'd try, of course; he wanted to actually enjoy himself before they got kicked out.

   “I don't understand the appeal here,” Black Hat said, squinting at the scene before him. “It's just a load of humans milling about.”

   “It's more than a gathering of humans, boss,” Flug pointed out. “Within these walls are people who have dedicated their _lives_ to studying superheroes. Some might even know more than the heroes themselves! Learning from their experiences could _really_ help the company.”

    Black Hat smirked, a few stray fangs peeking out. “I hadn't realized how attached you are to working. Perhaps you're _not_ the bumbling buffoon I've taken you for.”

    _Huh_ , Flug thought, _that was almost a compliment_.

   “My outstanding leadership must be paying off,” Black Hat added.

    _Yeah, that's more like it._

   “Ah, I’ve already figured out where to look first!” The demon theatrically gestured to a booth not far from the entrance, manned by a hooded figure who looked to be engrossed in some sort of magazine. It must have been a slow business day, the doctor observed. Black Hat marched briskly to the mysterious salesperson, with Flug skittering after him.

    The duo arrived at the booth, causing the figure to perk up at the sight of potential customers.

   “Greetings,” Black Hat said, glancing at the stand’s back wall where a variety of dangerous-looking weapons hung from plastic hooks. “I take it you know why we are here.”

    The figure dropped the magazine onto the wooden surface in front of them and quickly slid it out of view.

   “Of course!”, the figure chirped in a rather animated tone of voice. “Lookin’ for some quality props, right?”

    Black Hat deflated, his top hat seeming to curve downward ever so slightly. “ _Props_ ,” he echoed, a growl sneaking its way to the surface.

   “Yeah, man! You need amazing accessories for your amazing villain costumes. How else would ya win today's contest?”

    Flug could see his boss’s disappointed expression shift almost instantly to a subtle yet present spark of competition. He knew that Black Hat wouldn't walk away from a golden opportunity to show someone up.

   “Right,” the demon said. “The contest. Now, just to make sure, what would be the grand prize for such an event?”

    The figure fiddled with the drawstring of their hood in contemplation. “I think I heard something about a thousand dollars and... a bunch of free merch? Sign-ups are at the front desk if ya haven't done it yet.”

    Black Hat clasped his hands together, a greedy smile stretched across his face. “Excellent! Come on, Flug, let's not waste any time,” he said, already walking away.

    Flug followed suit, leaving the salesperson to grumble about them not having bought a single thing.

    Being famous evildoers and all, the duo obviously couldn't sign their real names. Instead, they used their respective aliases and wrote with their non-dominant hand in case any government officials were to recognize their writing.

    Flug jotted down “ _Todd Smith_ ” in shaky lettering. Right under it, Black Hat signed his own fake name, “ _Alan Charro Chernobog, Esquire_ ”, in near-perfect cursive.

    The doctor marveled at his boss’s penmanship but then mentally groaned, reading the name itself a second time. Leave it to Black Hat to choose such a flashy alias. Now, Flug knew that the demon could hold his own if anyone did find out, but he preferred to have a few days of normalcy before returning to the mansion. Still, the doctor reasoned that the greatest villain in history had to know what he was doing, so he kept quiet.

    After signing their names, it was only a matter of waiting for the contest to begin. To pass the time, they window shopped at a few more booths and even went to a couple of panels. Unfortunately, the closest thing that came to a hero expert was a comic book artist who explained, in great detail, the subtle differences between the anatomy of real and fictional superheroes. At one point when the artist was taking questions, Black Hat had the guts to raise his hand, and was promptly called on.

   “Just how many years of art school did you have to waste to get here?,” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow at the man. “If I'm correct, comics went out of style _ages_ ago.”

    The artist had fumbled for an answer, almost dropping his microphone out of surprise, before awkwardly moving on to the next question. Flug heard Black Hat stifle a snicker as the surrounding audience shot the demon a few disapproving looks.

    Nothing else had been quite as eventful as that particular panel, so Flug was relieved when a crackly voice from an overhead speaker called for all entrants in the costume contest to line up in the back of the main stage. Clusters of caped contestants dropped what they were doing and started trickling through the designated doorway. The duo followed them but kept a small distance away from the crowd, Black Hat refusing to be part of a “bloody collective of sheep”.

    Once they were backstage, a silver-haired woman with a clipboard greeted the cosplayers half-heartedly and gave them brief instructions on how to properly be judged.

   “Wait until your name is called to come onstage. Separate entrants will be observed one at a time by a panel of judges. Multiple contestants will only be allowed up front if they are a group entry. Please stay until the end for the results and award distribution.” With a swift flick of her ponytail, she disappeared behind the curtains.

    They had a few minutes until the scheduled start of the contest, giving everyone some time to mingle or informally introduce themselves. Amidst the chatter and pleasantries, Flug refused to engage and instead scanned the room to get a feel for his and Black Hat’s competition.

    A good chunk of the crowd looked like second-hand versions of well-known heroes, which was rather comforting to know. Their outfits looked rough around the edges and, in some cases, about to fall apart. Flug's eyes fell on a confident-looking little girl in a particularly low-budget costume, both of her parents watching over her with pride. He hadn't known that they allowed children in the contest. It must have been an all-inclusive event.

    From what he could tell, the child had tried to dress herself as Melody, a highly respected heroine with sound-based powers. The only problem was that Melody’s signature cape of sheet music was replaced with a beige colored square of felt that was clearly stapled in place, not to mention the swimming goggles in place of a cloth mask. She was even holding a pink plastic bugle! The costume was clearly made for fun, so why was she here? The doctor could only guess that her parents had entered her into the contest at the last minute. He almost felt sorry for the kid, but at least she wasn't too out of place among the teens and adults that looked like they’d gotten all of their supplies from their closet.

    _Well_ , Flug thought, _I guess we've got some pretty easy comp-_

   “Woah!”, shrieked a voice right behind him, causing him to jump. “I didn't think there'd be another one here!”

    Confused, the doctor spun around to meet the source of the sound, doing a double take upon seeing the person.

    He was dressed just like Black Hat.

    Smiling with a mouth full of fake fangs, the cosplayer gave Flug an energetic wave. “So you guys are aiming for the Best Villain Award, too, huh? And on top of that, it looks like you've caught on to the secret of how to do it!”, he said, looking up and down at the doctor’s boss, who had just noticed the sudden attention.

   “ _And what secret would that be?_ ”, Black Hat asked in a forcibly polite tone, inching closer to the contestant.

   “Going as good ol’ BH _always_ works”, the man explained, oblivious to his danger. “He's the baddest of the bad, so the only hitch’d be if you were going against somebody that pulls it off better.”

    The demon chuckled. “You must have a very high opinion of your costume.”

    The cosplayer crossed his arms, visibly flushing with pride under his gray face paint. “Oh, yeah. I got down every little detail; even stuff you couldn't usually see!” To prove his point, he tipped his top hat, revealing a bowler hat underneath. Flug had to admit, the poor guy did a pretty impressive job.

    Black Hat tapped his chin, seemingly in deep thought. “It is quite an accurate likeness, but… it's missing a little something.”

    The contestant cocked his head. “What do you mean?”, he asked.

    The demon grinned wickedly and leaned toward him, turning his back to Flug. “Well, it's a bit lacking in certain areas, you see. For example... can your costume do _this?_ ”

    The man froze as Black Hat's face split open into four sections. Flug couldn't quite see what was happening, but whatever his boss was doing, it was enough for the contestant to let out a silent scream and bolt through the exit. _So much for keeping it low-key._

   “Ha, that's more like it,” Black Hat said, now back to normal and dusting off his coat. “I've been wanting to do something like that all day.”

    Flug sighed. On the bright side, it didn't look like anyone noticed. “Uh, you’re not going to do that with every villain entry, are you?”, he asked.

    His boss snorted, which was quite the feat considering his lack of a visible nose. “Please. A self-respecting evildoer picks his battles. Besides,” he continued, straightening his tie, “when you're as charming as I am, winning isn't much of an issue.”

   “It is hard to compare, sir,” Flug weakly agreed.

    True to his word, Black Hat refrained from scaring anyone else even after the first contestant was called up onstage. His worst behavior involved simply making dry comments about the flaws in each costume under his breath. He also occasionally provided graphic descriptions of what would most likely happen if any wannabe fan gained superpowers and tried to stop a real villain such as himself.

    Finally, when the doctor heard his alias being called from a loudspeaker, he and Black Hat pushed through the curtains to greet the judges, who sat at a table right in front of the stage. One of them, a rail-thin man with slicked back purple hair, narrowed his eyes and started to say something but was cut off by Flug’s boss.

   “ _Todd_ and I are a group entry if you were curious. I apologize if we were required to inform you in advance. It's his mistake,” the demon added. “Regardless, we are onstage now and will, therefore, provide a demonstration of our costumes, if you would be so kind as to allow it.” His voice positively oozed charisma, and Flug knew that there was little that could stand in Black Hat's way when he wanted something. It was no wonder that he made such an excellent salesman.

    Sure enough, all three judges glanced at each other and nodded to the duo, allowing them to proceed.

    Black Hat strode up and down the stage in a typical runway fashion, flashing his audience a winning smile.

    Smoke began to pour in from all directions as if a circle of fog machines had been activated. It crept toward the demon, rapidly spinning around him like a dust devil before dissipating.

    The steady tapping of Black Hat’s shoes against the smooth floor faded away as it was drowned out by the eerie melody of an unseen violin, which echoed throughout the room. The judges twisted around in their seats, both baffled and impressed by the ambiance.

    Flug, not really knowing what to do, stood in one place while posing in what he hoped to be a menacing manner. Yeah, it went without saying that he wasn't one for presentation. He wished that he’d planned ahead and brought a beaker or something to demonstrate with. Hindsight was 20/20, he supposed, and there was no way he could’ve known that they would have entered the contest beforehand.

    From the way that the judges kept their eyes glued to Black Hat, Flug didn't have to worry about ruining the show. His boss was too busy _stealing_ it, which the doctor was sort of grateful for. Too many prying eyes made him a bit on edge, and it often affected his performance.

    It was a good thing, then, that the rest of the demonstration only lasted about a minute. Black Hat closed everything off with a tip of his hat and a gentlemanly bow, which Flug scrambled to mirror. After doing so, he saw the demon give the audience a playful wink. Well, it _looked_ like a wink from context, anyway. It was hard to tell since his other eye was covered.

    For a split second, after Black Hat reopened his eye, Flug thought he could see a bright red glow in his boss’s pupil. When the judges failed to take notice and instead applauded with a look of almost childlike amazement on their faces, he assumed it was a trick of the light or something. Definitely not important.

   “Next, please!”, one of the judges said cheerfully after the clapping had died down. Flug nodded and the duo made their way down a set of stairs on the side of the stage, taking a seat in the audience.

    The rest of the entries didn’t quite measure up to theirs. Most of the designs, along with the demonstration that came with them, were rather plain to look at. Two or three separate contestants didn’t even stick around for long before turning white as a sheet and leaving without a word. The doctor did take note of several complex and expensive-looking hero costumes, but he didn't think that it mattered. Black Hat hadn't expressed any concern over them, so Flug opted to not fret over it.

    Once the last contestant had finished, the judges scribbled into their clipboards and whispered furiously among one another. They must have been scoring each costume, Flug observed. He turned to his boss.

   “Do… do you think we'll win something?”, The doctor asked.

   “Oh, we certainly will,” Black Hat replied, smiling like he was in on a private joke.

    Okay, that answer was a little too ominous for Flug's liking.

    One of the judges cleared her throat. “We will now present the awards,” she said, leaning into a small desk microphone that amplified her voice for the crowd. Everyone listened intently, hoping that their hours of costume creation had paid off.

    The judge then rattled off a series of unimportant awards and titles that had nothing to do with the duo. Some included Most Handsome Hero, Cutest Outfit, Best Fictional Character Cosplay, and Funniest Ironic Costume. Flug wasn't quite sure why the last one existed, considering that the entire point of a contest was to strive to be the absolute best. Why bother entering if you weren't going to try? It just wasted the time of the people who actually applied themselves.

    Oh, well. He knew better than to put all of his faith in the judgments of anyone who worshipped spandex-wearing do-gooders, anyway. He supposed that they could do what they wanted with those _other_ awards. He and Black Hat had their eyes on a different prize.

   “Finally,” the judge said, looking down at her piece of paper, “the Best Villain Award.” Flug perked up and turned to his boss, who was filing his teeth with a piece of sandpaper. Seeing Black Hat's disinterest, the doctor focused his attention back to the speaker.

   “And the recipients for this award are…” She paused for dramatic effect, which earned a few groans from the audience. “Todd Smith and, ahem, Alan Charro Chernobog.”

   “ _Esquire_ ”, Black Hat corrected her, pocketing the sandpaper and strolling over to the judges’ table, Flug following behind.

    The announcing judge pretended not to hear him and handed the demon an envelope. Grinning like a maniac, he tore it open to find a laminated piece of paper the size of a playing card. Slightly perplexed but still excited, he read it out loud.

   “‘May the winner or winners of this prestigious award receive one thousand dollars… worth of free merchandise’?!” Black Hat glared dangerously at Flug, who was starting to wish that the hooded figure had kept their mouth shut about this whole thing.

   “ _Doctor Flug_ ,” he muttered quietly. “You-”

    Black Hat was interrupted by something being thrust into his arms, as well as the doctor’s. They both looked down to see a polished, gold-plated medal, engraved with the phrase “Best Villain”. The back was decorated with a simple illustration of a handlebar mustache.

   “You’re lucky I'm fond of medallions,” he finished, already placing it around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, I had fun writing this one. I got so into it that this chapter doubled the word count for the whole fic!
> 
> (And yeah, BH low-key mind controlled the judges into making him win. Hopefully I didn't make that too subtle to catch)


	5. Dance Lizard Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the party begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this chapter skips to the Friday of the party. The next chapter will take place on the last day of Flug and BH' s trip to Hero Con, followed by a conclusion the chapter after that. If there's a high enough demand, I could write one or two extra days for a sort of midquel.

   It only took several hours of hard work (mostly done by 5.0.5) and a six-pack of soda, but the entire mansion was finally decorated. Dementia was pretty surprised that they'd finished in time; the lizard girl had procrastinated until the day of the party, much to 5.0.5’s exasperation.

   Yeah, it was kinda dumb to wait until the last minute, but Dementia couldn't help it. With guitar practice and, well, the internet, her schedule had been totally filled up. Only when the blue bear had brought her a calendar that morning in bed, frantically pointing to a circled date, had she realized that it was now Friday. She had responded by grunting and pulling her blanket over her head, but 5.0.5 eventually coaxed her into getting to work with the promise of a delicious breakfast.

   Full of bacon, caffeine, and satisfaction, Dementia finally stepped back and admired their handiwork.

   Blue and yellow streamers were draped over suits of armor and anything else that’d been within throwing distance, which was a wonderful way to both brighten up the manor and give it a subtle sense of chaos. Each and every hallway had a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, which had taken forever to set up but was _totally_  worth it. In the dining room, a white tarp covered the unbelievably huge table that had been stocked with delectable party snacks, courtesy of 5.0.5. Dementia had taken care of the punch, surreptitiously adding in a little something from Black Hat's cellar to the bowl to shake up the party. She was half tempted to let the bear have some and film the whole thing, but a vivid picture of Flug freaking out over it and throwing away her souvenir made her mentally swear to keep 5.0.5 from drinking any.

   Dementia was then ushered into the living area, where she had allowed her furry friend to decorate everything himself while she’d been busy setting up the karaoke machine upstairs.

   A twinkling line of fairy lights had been neatly attached to the top halves of the walls, reminding Dementia of fireflies being forcefully pinned in place. She smiled at the mental image and moved her eyes to the floor, which was covered in a blanket of pastel-colored balloons. How the bear had managed to tie them was a mystery, but she figured it probably wasn't worth that much thought. She’d seen _way_  weirder things happen around here.

   Dementia picked up a pale pink balloon and sank her teeth into it, giggling after it produced a loud _POP_ and fell to pieces. 5.0.5 let out a squeak, covering his ears with his stubby paws. The lizard girl snickered but didn't pop anything else. Messing with him was fun, but you had to time it _just_  right to keep the novelty from wearing off. Besides, kicking around a bunch of balloons was too awesome an opportunity to pass up.

   She patted 5.0.5 on the back, calming him down a little.

  “I gotta admit, all this stuff ain't too bad! For a baby bear, anyways,” Dementia taunted, giving her friend a playful punch on the shoulder. If he felt anything, he didn't react to it, only smiling at the praise.

  “And y’know, you're shaping up to be a sick party planner,” she continued, her eyes wandering around the living room. “Almost as great as m- OH MY GOD IS THAT A CAKE?!”

   Against the wall opposite of the couch, sitting on top of a small foldable table was the biggest pastry Dementia had ever seen. It was made up of three layers that were roughly the same size, the whole thing adding up to be as tall as an average elementary schooler. And that wasn't even including the height of the table!

   She scampered over to it, her mouth watering. The sweet smell of buttercream frosting filled her nostrils. There had to be, like, a barrel of the stuff slathered onto the cake. Ooh, and it was probably made from scratch, too! Dementia moved to tear off a piece with her hand, but 5.0.5 stepped in front of her, babbling something and pointing at his wrist, which most likely meant that she was supposed to wait.

  “Aw, _what_?”, she complained. “That's not fair! It's not like I'm gonna eat the whole thing.” Dementia tried climbing over him but was caught in a bear hug. She kicked wildly in a childish form of protest.

  “ _No_!”, she whined as 5.0.5 carried her over to the sofa, a few balloons sticking to his hind legs in the process. “This is the evilest thing you've ever done! You’re despicable! How will you sleep at night, knowing you’ve deprived a poor girl of food, huh?”

   The bear didn't answer, for obvious reasons. He only set her down gently on the couch as she pouted at him. 5.0.5 waved a paw toward the front door and then motioned like he was turning a key.

  “ _ **Uuuugh**_ , I guess you're right,” Dementia said, rolling her eyes. “I should probably ditch the cake and get that gate open before they get here.”

   Sliding out of her seat, she trudged over to one of the many portraits of Black Hat that graced the walls of the mansion. Her annoyed scowl soon turned into a small smile as she admired the painting for a second. Oh, man, it was an _amazing_ likeness. The artist, who Dementia was pretty sure was Black Hat himself, included every little detail: the malicious glint in his eye, the inhumanly wide grin, his rugged good looks…

_Gah! Focus, Dementia! You have a job to do._

   She tilted the frame’s bottom right corner to the side, revealing a big red button that had been concealed behind the picture.

   The lizard girl let out a triumphant laugh as she slammed her fist into the button. A metallic groan could be heard in the direction of the mansion’s entrance, a telltale sign that the doors of the gate had swung open. Dementia retreated from the portrait, now crooked from her tampering, and wiped her brow in mock exhaustion.

  “Geez! That sure took a lot outta me,” she lamented. “I think now would be a wonderful time to take a load off. What do _you_ think?”

   5.0.5 answered by flopping onto the couch with a smile.

   The rest of the day, sans the party, was dedicated to power napping and scampering around the manor. Dementia had tried to break into Black Hat's office at one point, but 5.0.5 had blocked the way, shaking his head. 

  “I just wanna sit in the chair!”, she had rationally explained, but he’d refused to budge. Stupid stubborn bear.

   The hours sort of blended together until around 7:15, at which time Dementia heard a pounding at the front door. Having been in the living room already, staring at an ornate wall clock in anticipation, she dropped everything and charged at the door, yanking it open.

   On the other side stood four or five people dressed rather similar to Dementia. One of them, a young man with tattoos covering his unevenly shaven head, grinned at her and spread his arms out in a welcoming gesture.

  “Dem!”, he exclaimed. 

  “Shrapnel!”, Dementia replied, shooting her online bud some finger guns. She did the same with the rest of the group. “Hey, you guys made it too! Chain Mail, Recluse, Ammonia… Carl.”

   A rather plain looking boy gave her a shy wave.

  “Come on in!”, she said, stepping out of the way. “We got the place to ourselves tonight!”

   As if summoned, an apron-clad 5.0.5 appeared from the kitchen and grunted indignantly.

   The lizard girl shrugged. “Eh. Close enough.”

   Within the hour, several more groups of people filtered in until the party was buzzing with twenty-something guests. Everything was fine, though; 5.0.5 was too preoccupied with a disco dance battle to fuss about numbers, and Dementia was the _master_  of get-togethers. She had it all completely under control.

   That is until the doorbell rang.

   Normally, such a device would be drowned out by all the sick beats that were thumping through the house, but Black Hat Organization didn't have a normal doorbell.

   Dementia was about to skateboard down a set of stairs when she heard the shrieking of someone being horribly tortured, followed by a couple generic screams. Curious, she threw the skateboard behind her and slid down the railing. Making her way to the door, she wondered who would be on the other side. Everyone she'd expected to arrive was already here.

   Only one way to find out, she supposed.

   Dementia opened one of the double doors partially and stuck her head through to sneak a peek at the visitor. When she got a good look at him, she groaned and used her free hand to grip the bridge of her nose in irritation.

  “Seriously, man?”

   The uninvited guest was obviously a hero; the spandex suit and tacky eyemask were dead giveaways. Dementia’s sudden remark caused him to flinch a little before covering up his surprise with a semi-confident half-smile.

  “Good evening, um… villain?”, the muscle-bound man greeted, although it sounded more like a question. “I am Blazing Fist, and I-”

  “Wait, _that's_ your cool super name?”, Dementia asked, unphased by the hero’s presence.

  “Yes, it is,” he replied in a tone that implied he was actually _proud_ of it. “Anyway, I'm here to-”

   Blazing Fist was interrupted once more, this time by a wave of hysterical laughter that he could only respond to by standing there, dumbfounded. Snorts and giggles bubbled out of Dementia until she started getting short of breath, causing her laughs to be replaced with great gulps of air. Blazing Fist rocked back and forth awkwardly as the lizard girl started to calm down.

  “Oh, boy, you're _hilarious_ ,” she said, wiping away an imaginary tear. “It’s really too bad I gotta kick your butt.”

   The hero stiffened. “You won't get the chance,” he said, his fists clenching. “I am going to lay waste to this… doom factory, and ruin your business!”

   Dementia, having been in more fights than even Flug could count, shifted her weight into a more stable position. “ _Sure_  ya will,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Geez, how stupid can you _get_?”

   She resumed her laughter only to feel the wind getting knocked out of her. Her vision darkening momentarily, she felt herself skidding back into the manor, stopping only when a wall broke her momentum. She blinked away spots and checked herself, surprised to find that nothing felt broken. Her back stung and she was somehow sporting a few light burns, but she knew they’d heal.

   Dementia dusted off her singed clothes and smirked at her opponent. “A sucker punch, huh? For a hero, you sure fight dirty. What, were you too big a dork to cut it as an evil henchman?”

   Blazing Fist took the bait and lunged through the doorway. Dementia sidestepped his attack just in time, watching in amusement as his fist sank into plaster and became stuck there. She grabbed the hero's other arm and twisted it behind him, causing a few guests to cheer. “Finish him!”, one called out.

   Dementia snorted. “It ain't _that_ kind of party. Lucky for you~”, she added, addressing Blazing Fist and punctuating her sentence with another harsh twist.

   She felt the temperature of her hands rising and jumped back in surprise. The hero's gloved fists had burst into flames. Huh. Suddenly his dumb name made sense.

   Blazing Fist wrenched his hand out of the wall, leaving a scorched crater, and spun around to meet Dementia’s eyes. There was a smug look on his face. Did that jerk really think he outmatched her? _Please_. All she had to do was keep her distance and wait for the right moment to-

   A fireball flew toward her head. She yelped and dove out of the way, landing next to a massive banner with ends that reached the floor. With an impish smile, she climbed the cloth while narrowly avoiding, as far as she could tell, all of the hero’s fiery attacks.

   Reaching the top, Dementia screeched shrilly and hurled herself onto Blazing Fist’s back. Hanging off of him, she wrapped an arm around his neck in a chokehold and added more pressure when he resisted. He stumbled and weakly clawed at her, his gloves failing to conjure flames and only managing to become as warm as a fresh load of laundry.

   As Dementia relished the strained gurgles coming from Blazing Fist, she picked up the subtle yet distinct scent of something burning. She took a deep breath and immediately coughed, instinctively covering her mouth with her free hand. Whatever it was, it smelled close.

   Looking over her shoulder, she realized that the tip of her ponytail had caught fire sometime during the fight. The flames were slowly but surely creeping toward her face.

   That may have been a problem.

  “HEY!”, she shouted to anyone listening. “Little help?!”

   An almost canine scream of panic sounded out behind Dementia. She glanced back to see a blue blur of fur galloping across the room on all fours, a sea of balloons parting around it. 5.0.5 bumped past a couple guests and screeched to a halt beside her, his front claws digging into the floorboards.

  “Just the fuzzball I wanted ta see!”, Dementia said with a smile.

   5.0.5’s eyes darted back and forth between her face and her burning hair, clearly unsure of what to do. He finally settled on stomping out the fire as fast as he could with his hind leg. It caused him to whimper a bit from the pain, but his method eventually worked, leaving behind a small trail of smoke and a ponytail that was now without its spiral tip. He patted the singed patch of hair worriedly.

  “Psh, it'll grow back,” Dementia assured him.

   She turned back to Blazing Fist, whose face was becoming pale. He looked ready to pass out.

  “Oh, right. _This_ guy exists.”

   She sighed, removing her arm from the hero and landing on her feet. He crumpled to the floor and gasped for air, rubbing at his neck.

   Dementia looked down at him in disdain. “So… what to do about this wimp? Should we break his legs? Cut them off and mail them to his loved ones?” Each question she asked got her more and more excited.

   5.0.5, on the other hand, covered his eyes and started weeping in fear, Blazing Fist adding to the noise with a pitiful wail.

  “ _Fiiine,_ ” Dementia groaned. “I'll just knock him out.”

   The hero grew silent and raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

   After a swift kick to the head, he was out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took a while. Y'know, I like writing for Dementia and 5.0.5. They're underappreciated little beans.


	6. Fite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat + Other people= Not a good time.

   It had been a pretty enjoyable week for Flug. He had all but begged his boss to partake in most of Hero Con’s scheduled events, from staged performances to free signings carried out by famous sidekicks, and he’d beamed when Black Hat had reluctantly accepted. Sure, a majority of the activities had to do with praising or idolizing heroes, but that was to be expected. At any rate, Flug enjoyed the experience of exploring a convention and wanted to make the most of their last day.

   Black Hat, on the other hand…

   He was less amused.

 “Why is it that so many humans insist on celebrating the concept of  _heroes_ , out of everything on this wretched planet?”, he asked, glaring daggers at a group of friends who were taking pictures at a cardboard backdrop of the Super League’s HQ.

  “I-if I had to hazard a guess, sir, it might have something to do with being grateful for, you know, saving the day?”, Flug replied. “Not to mention the sense of empowerment it would give to those choosing to dress up as heroes.”

  “I wasn't looking for an actual answer,” Black Hat scoffed, waving off the doctor's explanation. “I've been around long enough to understand basic psychology. I do not keep you around to tell me what I already know.”

  “So, um, you knew that, then?”, Flug asked.

   The demon’s face darkened. “Of course, wasn't it obvious? Now, let's drop the subject and… ridicule a few unsuspecting mortals!” Black Hat grinned and dragged the hapless scientist throughout the building, apparently looking to seek out victims to torment as much as possible without stirring any visible trouble with the law.

   The more they walked around, the slower Black Hat's pace became, until he and Flug eventually came to a full stop next to a long queue of people at a concession stand. Black Hat gazed at several of them, a strange expression on his face.

  “You know,” he rumbled in a voice low enough for only the doctor to hear, “I was going to cut to the front and steal some money from the register, but… I've noticed something. Take a look at these patrons.”

   Flug obliged, turning away from his boss and observing the people in line. Nothing seemed unusual to him; just your average hungry convention-goers.

  “I don't think I follow,” he said, turning back to Black Hat. “I-I mean, some are wearing costumes, but that's to be expected in an environment like this. Right?”

   The demon sighed, clearly annoyed. “So you’re less perceptive than I thought. I suppose I’ve got to spell it out for you, then.”

   He pointed to one of the people in cosplay, who wore a golden skin-tight suit and a beehive-shaped helmet.

  “Have you ever seen a hero that looks like _that_ before? Don't bother answering, I know you haven't. Such a thing would be impossible. You see, I keep track of every hero, to the point where I’m able to recognize any one of them on sight and determine their weaknesses purely from memory. Impressive, isn't it?”, Black Hat added with a smile before continuing. “Now, the problem is that a great deal of the costumes here are depicting heroes that simply _do not exist._  Why go through all the trouble of dressing up simply to honor a fictional person?” He appeared genuinely confused by the idea.

   Flug hesitated. “S-sir, are you being rhetorical again or-”

  “ _Just answer the blasted question!_ ”, Black Hat snapped.

  “Right, sorry, of course!”, The doctor said, flinching away. He saw a couple convention-goers turn their heads toward the duo out of the corner of his eye.

  “I think they’re just- just interested in fantasy. I, uh, I don’t think there's any deeper meaning than that. Oh, but it's still amazing how you could tell that some people were dressed as their SuperSonas just by looking at them, sir!”

   Black Hat's expression turned blank. “Sue Personas? Are you making up words to make me appear less intelligent?” His pupil began to take on a reddish tint.

  “I-I would never!”, Flug said, shaking his head fervently. “SuperSonas are what fans like to call the ‘hero’ versions of themselves. I believe that it boosts their self-esteem,” he explained.

   The demon broke into a troubling grin. “Ah, so they hold their characters in a high regard, do they? Well, it would certainly be a shame if someone were to shatter their hopes and dreams~”, he said, crossing his arms behind his back and stalking up and down the line, seemingly picking out a cosplayer to make fun of.

    _Okay,_ Flug thought, _there's no need to worry. Everything will be fine as long as he doesn't cause a disturbance._

   He stumbled after Black Hat, who had stopped in front of a determined-looking heroine cosplayer with a white-and-green color scheme. She scowled up at him.

  _“Black Hat,"_ she said, practically spitting out his name. “I suspected that you'd show your face here.”

_Wait, does she know?!_

  “I _am_ your nemesis, after all!”, the fan boasted.

  _Oh, good, she's only in character._

   His boss returned her ill-tempered gaze with a flat, detached look. “You must have mistaken me for another villain. Yes, I _am_  Black Hat, but I've no nemeses to speak of,” he said, frowning. “Having one would imply some sort of challenge. As things stand, I am and have always been unopposed. Any enemies that I happen to come face to face with are merely target practice.” He sported a ghost of a smile that grew wider as he awaited her reaction.

   The heroine just pouted. “You insult me and my title as the defender of this great sparkling city! You talk big, but how formidable are you on the battlefield?”, she asked, unsheathing a dull plastic sword from behind her back and raising it into the air dramatically. “I, White Thunder, challenge you to a duel!”

   Well, that was it. They were going to end the trip with a murder. Flug couldn't say he was very surprised. At least it was fun while it lasted.

  “No, I think not,” Black Hat replied, turning his back to her. “Such an action would be a serious waste of time.”

   Um, what? Who was this man and what did he do with Flug's _real_  boss?

   White Thunder looked down sheepishly before brightening up once more. “Don't worry about it, I understand!”, she called to him as he began to walk away, Flug joining him. “It was rude of me to be so sudden about fighting you. I mean, I'm still in line for lunch, for crying out loud! I'll give us a while to prepare, and we can do this later!”

   The demon grimaced and quickened his pace.

* * *

 

   

   To clear their heads of the ‘incident’, Flug suggested that they go to one of the convention’s indoor cafés and buy something cold to drink.

  “ _Fine_ ," Black Hat replied, “as long as you promise to order something complicated. No point in making things easy for the service industry.”

   The scientist ended up buying an iced vanilla latte with coconut milk and extra sugar. That was about as complex as he could make it without having to swipe his company card, which was _definitely_ out of the question. Crazy overpriced coffee. This was why he brewed his own.

   Once Black Hat ordered his beverage, a tall glass of unsweetened black tea, the two left with their drinks to search for somewhere to sit.

   Finding an empty circular table in a cafeteria-type area, they pulled out two chairs that were situated across from each other and settled in. Flug took a sip of his sugary latte while his boss absentmindedly twirled the straw of his drink, his other hand cradling his face in boredom. It looked like a nice window of time for a conversation.

  “So,” the doctor began, “about what happened earlier…”

   Black Hat paused in his stirring. “Go on,” he prompted, glancing up at Flug.

  “I r-really didn't expect you to do that. Just walk away, I mean. For a second, I thought you'd-”

  “-tear the idiot to pieces?”, The demon finished with a wistful smile. “Yes, I considered it. However, one of the finest traits of a villain is knowing when to practice restraint. It's all a matter of self-control that can be easily mastered by figuring out how to say-”

  “No. Way!”, a familiar voice exclaimed.

   Black Hat's eye narrowed, his grip tightening on the glass until it started spider webbing with cracks.

   Appearing next to his chair was the smiling face of the one and only White Thunder. “I can't believe that we've had the fortune to cross paths like this! It must be destiny,” she said, putting her hands on her hips in some kind of superhero pose. “Yes, I can already tell we're fated to fight!”

   Wait a minute…

  “Have you been _following_  us?”, Flug asked, his suspicion growing.

  “What? Of course not!”, the heroine replied a little too quickly. “ _That_  would be intrusive. And probably illegal. I was just in the area, that's all!”

   Her last sentence had a defensive edge, but Flug decided not to mention it. How could he, a mad scientist, possibly criticize someone just for being a stalker? It would be like the Erlenmeyer flask calling the beaker transparent! Besides, her obsessive behavior sort of reminded him of Dementia, and-

  _Oh_ , the doctor thought, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. _Black Hat must have picked up on that already._  

   God, he was probably _furious._

   Sure enough, when Flug looked over to him, he noticed that the demon’s monocle was sizzling. Wisps of smoke were seeping out from behind it, which was never a good sign.

  “Sorry, we're busy,” he said, still staring at the thoroughly peeved Black Hat with apprehension. “You should leave.”

   From the way White Thunder reacted, you would have thought she'd been slapped in the face.

  “Are… you guys sure?”, she asked, her voice becoming quieter than usual.

   Black Hat released his drink, which was still intact by what could only be a miracle. “Sure that we want you out of our sight? Yes,” he said without batting an eye. “How about you go make yourself useful and fall into a nuclear reactor or something?”

   For some reason, his words got White Thunder _laughing._  

 “Wow, you've got him pegged! I almost thought you were serious. Okay, okay, my turn,” she chuckled before switching to a more heroic voice. “I refuse to stand by and allow you to carry on with your evil deeds! Let's settle this with a little hand-to-hand combat!”, The fan said, raising her fists in preparation.

  This was quite the problem. How could they get her to leave if she didn’t take them seriously? Whenever he and Black Hat acted like themselves, she just saw it as a form of role-playing. Every word they said, no matter how brutally honest they were, helped to fan the fire.

  So, if honesty wasn't the best policy…

  Flug had another plan.

 “L-listen. White Thunder,” he began, addressing the false heroine. “Let's be real for a minute.”

  Her fists dropped to her sides as she listened with interest.

 “We've had a long, tiring week. You understand, right? Talking to a lot of people, not really getting any rest, that kind of thing. It's been hard for us, especially for my bo- um, my _buddy._ Alan. The man in the Black Hat costume,” Flug corrected.

_Nice save._

 “So, yeah. We'd appreciate some space,” he finished with a nervous chuckle. Maybe with some luck, she'd buy his rather lackluster explanation.

  White Thunder’s face knitted with concern. “I had no clue! With how popular you guys are, you probably have larpers breaking down your doors _all the time_. If anybody deserves a break, it's you two," she said, giving them a smile. "I only wish there was a way I could make it up to you."

 **"H** **ere's an idea:"** , Black Hat practically growled, **"leave."**

The cosplayer's eyes grew wide. "Of course, that's perfect! Thank you so much!"

   She grinned one last time and sped off, leaving the doctor with the feeling that this wasn't the last they'd see of her. 

 "Oh. Doctor Flug?", Black Hat said as if he'd just remembered something.

 "Yes, boss?" 

  The demon grabbed his drink and shattered it with one hand, reducing both the glass and the tea to dust.

 "Don't call me 'buddy' again."

  Flug gulped. "Wouldn't dream of it."

   

* * *

 

  After their not-so-refreshing break, they decided to check out a public Q-and-A session that featured some rather famous heroes and villains. Well, that was what the sign above the door had _advertised,_ anyway.

  Strolling past a few rows of folding metal chairs and taking a seat near the front, the duo found that the event was more like some sort of improv session. About five or six overly enthusiastic teens decked out in capes, armor, and the like were taking turns answering questions from the audience while stopping frequently to bicker as the characters they were playing. Flug was relieved to see that none of them had the gall to roleplay as Black Hat; at least their heads weren't so far in the clouds that they ignored the clearest signs of danger. Instead, the fans dressed as weaker, less threatening evildoers: Nightowl, a bird-themed thief with a taped-on beak; Alley Cat, who—like her real-life counterpart—was wearing cargo pants, a t-shirt, and a pair of cat ears; and finally Shade, a wealthy but ultimately harmless client whom his boss more or less respected for being drawn to darkness. As for the heroes... Flug didn't particularly care. He knew about ten of them from the top of his head, but the rest blended together. The outfits were decent enough, he supposed. Besides, the allure of the whole thing was probably the illusion of asking questions to powerful figures.

  Never one to turn down an experiment, the doctor raised his hand.

 "Yeah?", the guy playing Night Owl called out. "The _super_ accurate Doctor Flug?"

He was met with some scattered applause as the actor drew attention to his so-called costume. Giving a little wave of acknowledgment to the impressed crowd, he went on with his question.

 "Th-this is for Shade," he said, his voice cracking a bit from being caught off guard. "How do you, um, spend your holidays?"

  That was a normal thing to ask at these kinds of things, right?

 "I succumb to the abyss," the actor for Shade replied in a deadpan tone. "It's pretty fun."

  _Not bad,_ he thought.  _A little too silly for such a somber villain, but still._  The audience appeared to be satisfied, considering the laughter that had broken out for a few moments. 

 "...So you're not coming to my Christmas party?", 'Alley Cat' asked, looking mildly hurt. The room echoed once again with the ripple of laughter.

 "Parties are for the weak," 'Shade' said, crossing their cloaked arms. "But yes, I'll bring cider," they added, stage whispering.

  Black Hat groaned as the people around them chuckled. "What a pathetic display. I can't believe such watered-down drivel is considered entertaining," he muttered to Flug, who nodded instinctively. The demon huffed and leaned back in his chair, the movement causing the guests behind them to gripe amongst themselves. 

 "Guys, guys, wait," 'Nightowl' said in a tone that was rather out-of-character. "There's a Black Hat here? And he's _right next_ to the Flug we just talked to? How did I not notice him before?" The crowd faced the duo and absolutely lost their minds, pointing and bringing out their phones.

   _Great. More attention. That's exactly what we need._

 'Shade', after staring at the both of them for a second, covered their hidden mouth with their hand in surprise. "Oh! I think I've heard about these two!", they said, the calmness of their voice completely gone. "Do you mind if you stick around after the show? My friends and I have been meaning to give you a couple things."

  Okay, that was a red flag. It was obvious that _someone_ had gotten wind of the fact that there were real villains roaming around the convention center and had enlisted a number of undercover operatives to sniff them out. Flug was just glad that his boss was too smart to fall for a simple ambush. Working with a criminal mastermind had perks like that.

 "Go ahead," Black Hat replied, to his surprise. "Who am I to turn down complementary items?" He gave them a laid-back smirk as Flug mentally prepared himself for his imminent doom. This had to be some strange way of getting rid of him, or—who knows? Maybe his boss just wanted to let his anger out on a few people after so many days of doing practically nothing.

  He almost felt sorry for their future attackers. 

  The rest of the show wasn't anything special, just a bunch of jokes sprinkled with some actual pieces of trivia every now and then. Captain Atomic's weakness was apparently dubstep if the Q-and-A was to be believed.

  Once it all ended and the last guest was out the door, Black Hat rose from his seat and motioned for Flug to follow. As they made it to the front of the room, the doctor couldn't help but feel anxious. It had been a while since he'd seen his boss fight someone in person, and the likelihood that he'd protect Flug from the crossfire was about as likely as winning the lottery. Twice. On the bright side, he always kept a ray gun or two in his coat pockets for occasions like this; it never hurts to be prepared.

  Joining the three remaining actors—Alley Cat, Shade, and some hero with heart patterns on his shirt sleeves—Flug could hear Shade finishing a phone call.

 "Almost there? Good, you need to hurry. The room's booked for a film screening in ten minutes. Thanks. See you soon." Hanging up, they looked over to the duo. "Our friend will be here shortly. She's the one who told us about you," they explained. "Really wanted to see you again."

  Wait. There was no way that it could possibly be... But what if this was all planned from the start? _I_ _need a second opinion or something,_ he thought, glancing over to Black Hat.

  He didn't yield any answers, only keeping a steady grin and nodding along with what they said. Of course. He _was_ pretty skilled at hiding his true intentions, Flug supposed. His air of mystery was one reason that he was such an influential role model for all the other villains. Even so, would it hurt the guy to say something,  _anything,_ about their situation? Just going with the flow could only take you so far, and Flug did _not_ like being kept in the dark. As a scientist who relished new discoveries, he decided to take matters into his own hands and find things out for himself.

  "What... what did you say you wanted with us again?", he asked the group of alleged fans, slowly stepping out of punching distance in case things got ugly. "I can't see why you'd want to talk to a pair of a-average, everyday civilians like ourselves. It would make more sense if your focus was on a hero or a sidekick, wouldn't it?"

    _Anyone but us._

   Alley Cat snorted. "You don't have to be so modest," she said with a good-natured smile. "You two deserve any attention you get." The doctor shuddered at her wording and hoped his nerves weren't too noticeable. He couldn't afford to show any weakness, especially when his boss was so calm and collected by contrast.

  "Hey!", the heart-themed hero chimed in. "Speaking of attention... look who's finally here!" He pointed to the doorway where a certain someone was sipping a soda and toting a large plastic bag in her other arm.

   It was White Thunder. Surprise, surprise. 

   Upon seeing them, her masked face lit up like a Christmas tree. She bounded over to them, clutching her drink and rocking back and forth out of excitement. "It's really you, the guys from before!", she said, eyeing them both with interest. "Small world, huh?"

   Flug sighed. Planned or not, he was sure that there was no escaping this encounter. Resisting could trigger a premature fight, so the safest option would be to hold a conversation with her.

  "What is it that you want, anyway?", he asked, reaching casually into his pockets and feeling the smooth metal of a pair of ray guns.

  "That is an excellent question. I remembered how you talked about being super stressed out, so..." White Thunder trailed off, setting her drink on the floor and removing the bag from her shoulder. "...I got you some stuff to help!" She held out the bag eagerly and Black Hat snatched it away, the plastic rustling as he sorted through the goods one by one. Flug peered at the contents himself as the demon started to list them off under his breath.

  "Dark chocolate, chamomile tea... _stress balls?",_ he questioned, his voice rising as he brought out the aforementioned stress toy. He let out a small irritated growl and kept digging through the items, now with more energy. "Scented candles? Incense burners?! How dare—? We do not require any _assistance!"_ In a huff, he threw the bag to the ground, spilling out almost everything inside.

  "Sure you do," White Thunder said, scoffing. "There's nothing wrong with needing help every once in a while."

   Shade pulled out a scrap of paper from their hoodie, handing it to the seething Black Hat. "Here. You could use it." 

   He took the paper, his claws almost piercing through it. "What, pray tell, is  _this?_ ", he asked without bothering to read the handwritten words. Flug noticed that his boss's voice was taking on a deeper quality that was often present when he was threatening someone. It felt nice to be away from the other end of his anger for once, but he was going to be in serious trouble if it escalated.

  "Some breathing exercises," Shade replied. "I was worried about your physical and emotional health."    

   'Alley Cat' agreed, taking a tiger plushie out of one of her many pockets. "Stuffed animals always calm me down," she explained to Black Hat, who had already crumpled his paper into a ball so tiny that it was no longer visible to the human eye. "Go ahead, you can have it," the costumed fan insisted, pushing the tiger into his arms.

    He looked down at it in distaste. "Ugh. I could _never_ accept something like this," he sneered.

   "It's fine," she assured him, brushing off his remark. "It's not, like, a childhood toy—I got it from the bargain bin. Besides, it's the right thing to do! You look like you need a little kindness thrown your way."

    Black Hat gagged, wrinkling his face in disgust. He dropped the now-burnt plushie with a snarl, glaring at each fan in turn. "That does it. I have had all I can take of this nonsense _and I am ending it now._ No more stooping to your level." He gave Flug a cold glance before continuing. "Nevertheless, I suppose I should thank you all for one thing: you're living reminders of why I despised this planet in the first place. Congratulations."

   "Lighten up. Earth is _beautiful_ _!_ ", White Thunder argued. The demon hissed, his snakelike tongue flitting out between his teeth. 

   " _You,"_  he muttered, rounding on her. "You're the one who started this repulsive so-called 'friendship circle'. Perhaps you could redeem yourself a bit and talk some sense into your _pitiful_ excuses for companions! Tell them to pack their _bloody_  things and...and..."

    He paused and the room grew dim as if all the light had been ripped away by some unseen force. Flug felt goosebumps appear on his exposed neck as the air got colder. The fans whimpered and clung to each other for warmth and comfort. Black Hat, now much taller and ganglier than his original size and shape, was both the brightest and darkest thing around. It was impossible to do anything but stare at his glowing, pupil-less eye. His voice, laced with an undertone of some long-forgotten language, broke the tense silence at last.

    **"...** **go away."**     

    For a brief moment, everything was still and quiet once more. Flug, along with the others, looked on in terror without the slightest twitch of a muscle. He had to admit it—even after expecting a breakdown like this from day one, he was far from unaffected by the wrath of his evil employer. Flug was petrified, regardless of the fact that he hadn't been the one to set the guy off.

Finally, a scream that was likely to have come from White Thunder tore everyone else from their trances. It all devolved into complete and utter chaos, the fans tripping over each other to get to the door first and, upon their exit, tumbling out a series of panicked warnings to a confused group of people waiting outside. Flug picked up snippets of what they were saying, his usual feeling of anxiety setting back in and replacing his sense of mortal peril.

   "...in there...insane...the  _real_ Black Hat!"

    A few inquisitive heads poked in and, taking a good look at the still-shapeshifted creature, turned tail and ran.

    The shadowy figure cackled at the sight, shrinking down into his default form and returning the room to its original fluorescent brightness. "Did you see their faces, Flug? The very _definition_ of fear!", he bragged as he strode over to the doctor, his spirits visibly lifted thanks to his outburst.

   "Yes, um, you really know how to put the public into a frenzy," he replied, frowning under his bag as it dawned on him that they couldn't stay at the convention for much longer.

   "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. Listen," Black Hat ordered, a gloved hand raising to his lips.

    Flug kept silent as he heard the crackling of a nearby intercom, followed by a mechanical buzz and a woman's voice. 

   " _Attention, visitors. Please evacuate to the nearest exit. This is NOT a drill. Black Hat has been spotted in Conference Room F, as shown by our surveillance system..."_

    The doctor cursed, just noticing the security camera in the corner of the room. "Wh-what are we going to do? Given the level of threat, they're probably sending in the entire League as we speak!" As capable as he was of putting up a fight, he wasn't too keen on being beaten to a pulp by a team of radioactive jocks.

   "We'd better start running, then, eh?"

    Flug's questioning protests fell upon deaf ears (or no ears, in this case) as Black Hat seized his arm and burst through the doorway, skittering like a spider down the hallway and toward a fast-approaching exit, the glowing green sign at the top already becoming legible. It looked like they were in the home stretch. Just a bit more-

     _SCREEECH._

    The demon skidded to a halt so suddenly that Flug could have sworn he felt a case of whiplash coming on. Still stumbling forward, he held his arms out for balance and almost fell over, Black Hat catching him by his shirt collar just in time and hoisting him upright. "Clumsy fool," he grumbled, rolling his eye.

   "Th-that wasn't my-"

    Flug sighed.

   "Nevermind. Is there a reason we stopped, sir?", he asked before dusting off his lab coat.

    Black Hat gestured to the nearby door. "We're already surrounded. I can see their numerous heat signatures. I  _could_ make short work of these obstacles, of course. However, I have another idea." He turned to meet the doctor's eye, his monocle shining.

   "Do you know what instills fear more effectively than a dramatic entrance? Picture this: you're a sniveling homo sapien who has—by pure luck, mind you—escaped the clutches of the most notorious mastermind in the cosmos."

    Emanating self-confidence with every word he spoke, he continued.

  "You're out of the building, but  _he_ hasn't left the premises. Every possible opening is either barricaded or guarded. You're scared; he's not been caught yet. A government official (a  _hero,_ even!) is on the scene. The hero does a quick search, intending to scope out the whereabouts of the bloke. And  _what_ do they find?" His tone was not unlike that of a teacher's, cheerfully prompting a student to work out a solution.

   It didn't matter; Flug knew the answer.

  "Nothing," he said, blinking with recognition. "But how are we going to-"

   Black Hat tsked. "You underestimate me."

   He snapped his fingers and they sank into pitch darkness. Flug gasped as he was overcome with a sense of weightlessness. Flailing his limbs in alarm, his suspicions were confirmed—the ground had disappeared along with his eyesight. The knowledge that his boss was the one behind the change of space did little to comfort him. How _could_ it, when Black Hat and everything associated with him caused nothing but harm? All Flug could do was stay in one place and hope nothing would come out of the void to kill him.

   Without warning his surroundings shifted and he fell to the floor with a thud. Feeling like he'd just run a marathon, he shakily got to his feet and looked around. He was back in their hotel room. It was immaculate as ever, thanks to both the maid and Flug's knack for organizing. Well, that and Black Hat's complete refusal to use any of the hotel's supplies (including the bed). Come to think of it, where  _was-_

Flug jumped as Black Hat materialized in front of him, covering his mouth and snickering like a troublesome little kid. "Ha! A clean getaway. Just imaginetheir reactions, Flug! Two villains,  _in costume_ , vanishing into thin air! After an  _entire week_ of public appearances!" He said, breaking into a bout of malicious laughter.

   The doctor frowned from under his bag. He didn't see what was so funny about being driven out of Hero Con; after all this time, the convention had grown on him. Sure, it was created in favor of the very thing he stood against, but who cared? Fun was fun, and he had appreciated the change of pace. How could Black Hat just take that away from him? It wasn't fair at all!  _Both_ of them had been out of their element. Black Hat should have kept his habits under control, like Flug-

   Oh. Wait.

   The doctor took another good look at the room's pristine, almost sparkling condition and let out a sheepish laugh. Black Hat wasn't the only one who had self-control issues. Now that he thought about it, Flug had given in to his habits _much_ earlier on. He couldn't imagine going a day without staying organized, but a  _week?_ That would have been impossible. Being able to hold back from villainy as long as he did...

   Black Hat was reallysomething else.

  "You  _are_ quite remarkable, boss," Flug said with a nod.

  "Yes, yes, I know. But I hope you understand that flattery does not equate to a good work performance," Black Hat replied, smirking. "Now start packing the car. I believe it's returned from the convention."

   Flug wilted, his muscles already sore at the sight of their piles of luggage. "Right away, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for their Hero Con shenanigans. They... probably won't be coming back anytime soon.
> 
> I debated adding the car ride back to the manor, but then I decided against it. It would've interrupted the chapter's flow. HOWEVER. If you guys want me to make a bonus chapter (I'd release it before the next actual chapter), go ahead and tell me.


	7. Home Sweet(?) Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat and Flug come home after the long trip and they all find out how each group had spent their time apart. This can only end badly.

   The car door closed with a quiet  _thunk._ Flug gazed up at the towering mansion before him, smiling at seeing such a familiar sight after what might as well have been months. It was nice to go out and do something every once in a while but at the same time...

   It was called a comfort zone for a reason. 

   As things were, Flug was ready to go inside, slink into his laboratory, and tinker with whatever invention needed to be worked on for the next commercial. Sighing in contentment at the thought, he opened up the trunk of the Rolls-Royce and grabbed two small plastic bags, stumbling a bit in surprise from their weight. That free merchandise was a lot heavier than it looked. As he practically dragged them to the front door, his eyes darted over to Black Hat, silently pleading for his assistance.

   His boss scoffed. "I was against the procurement of that rubbish since the beginning.  _You_ are responsible for bringing them into the house," he sneered, leaning casually against the side of the car and tilting the brim of his hat to cover his eyes.

  "Right. Yes, sir," Flug replied, not bothering to hide the lack of energy in his voice. Thankfully, a thousand dollars' worth of swag was too expensive to take up too much space; in fact, Flug was pleasantly surprised to find that he only needed to carry a few bags of T-shirts and lanyards. Then he saw that there was still a mountain of luggage to remove from the trunk. Massaging his soon-to-be-sore arms, he found the suitcase nearest to the car's outside edge and, grabbing the handle, pulled with all of his strength. The soles of his sneakers scraping against the concrete, Flug heaved until the case fell to the ground. He tried tilting it back and rolling it until he remembered something: their luggage never had wheels.

    _Of course not,_ Flug thought, rolling his eyes.  _Why make things easy for your own workers?_

Still clutching the handle, he began dragging the suitcase to the mansion's entrance. One step at a time, he inched closer and closer to the front door, the case slowly scraping along. Finally, after a minute of hard labor and several pulled muscles, he made it to his destination. 

  "Ugh! Could you not go any faster?", Black Hat growled, snapping his fingers.

   There was a sound like the breaking of twigs, and Flug turned to see that the remaining luggage had grown spindly legs—not unlike that of an insect—and scurried to the entrance in a single-file line. Once they all emptied from the car, some unseen force threw open the double doors and the suitcases spilled into the room, their frantic motion obscuring Flug's view of the interior. Once they finally settled down, their legs bursting into green flames and scattering to the winds, Flug gingerly stepped over them and into the mansion. 

  "Unbelievable," he murmured, soaking everything in.

   The entire living area was spotless. In fact, it looked  _cleaner_ than it had been before they left. The paintings were dusted, the floors were vacuumed... No one would have known that an unhinged womanchild and a giant bear had spent a week there, totally unsupervised. At least, if Flug didn't count the Hat Bots as supervision.

   He didn't, by the way; those things were too agreeable for their own good. 

   Flug jumped as Black Hat rushed past him with his arms now full of merchandise, darting around the room and examining it like it was a crime scene. "Something is not quite right," his boss said, his neck then twisting 180 degrees as his eye stared off into the distance. "We seem to have had  _visitors."_   

   Somehow this wasn't a very mind-blowing conclusion. Dementia had been known to invite "friends" over to party with her—with varying results, of course. Most people knew better than to enter the house of Black Hat himself without his permission, and those not sane enough to care would have had trouble staying alive when the demon found out about their intrusion. It looked like Dementia was smart enough to wait until she and 5.0.5 were alone to bring anyone here.

   Black Hat then stormed off (literally, as thunder rumbled throughout the mansion with each step), Flug following behind with concern. He hoped his special little bear wasn't doing anything that could get him into trouble. Out of the three of them, 5.0.5 had the worst luck when it came to making Black Hat angry. Dementia, though... She'd be fine. Flug was pretty sure that she found that kind of thing  _attractive._

After passing through several winding corridors and one or two torture chambers, they finally found themselves in the kitchen. One quick look at the scene before him almost caused Black Hat to drop the bags he was carrying out of surprise.

  _"What is the meaning of this?"_ , Black Hat asked, his tone a fine mixture of frustration and confusion.

   In the middle of the checker-tiled floor sat Dementia, playing cards with a worried-looking 5.0.5. A tightly bound hero laid on his stomach between them, looking like he would rather have been anywhere else right then. It seemed like they were using him as a table for their game, his unnaturally broad back holding two juice boxes and a deck's worth of cards. All in all, it was pretty tame stuff compared to Dementia's usual activities.

   The lizard girl tilted her head up at Black Hat and, upon making eye contact, jolted upright like she'd been injected with pure caffeine. "Ooh! You're back just in time! So... whattaya think?"

   She gestured grandly to the hero, who tried to shrink away from Black Hat's gaze as much as he could. 

   His mouth half open in a state of mild shock, Black Hat allowed an uncomfortable period of silence to pass before replying. "Just to clear things up, I leave you two utterly alone for days at a time... and you decide to clean the house and capture a hero."

   Dementia giggled. "Yup! I did it all for you, hot stuff~", she said, furiously batting her eyelashes at him like he'd thrown dirt in her face.

   This earned a shudder from Black Hat. "Might I ask  _how_ this filthy do-gooder managed to bypass our security in the first place?", he prodded, composing himself.

  "Oh, y'know, he just kinda...", Dementia trailed off, deciding that the cards in her hand were much more interesting than their conversation. She took a moment to stare at them thoughtfully before choosing one and hurling it at 5.0.5 like a frisbee. The bear eagerly caught it mid-air with his teeth and set it down on the hero's back, taking care to line it up with the other cards.

  "As a matter of fact," Black Hat said, stoic as ever, "I do  _not_ know. Care to elaborate?"

   The lizard girl cleared her throat, pursing her lips in contemplation. "The...security was, um...turned off by dinosaurs! Yeah. That was the thing that happened," she explained, nodding fervently.

  "Dinosaurs, you say?", the demon asked, his flat voice hiding his intentions. Flug couldn't believe a conversation like that could carry on for so long, but, hey, at least he wasn't the center of attention.

  " _Flug,"_ Black Hat whispered, leaning close to him, "are dinosaurs still alive?" 

   Of course. He spoke too soon.

  "...No, boss," Flug replied, ignoring Dementia's wordless protests. It didn't matter if he was, aside from 5.0.5, the most caring person in the manor—Flug didn't even want to  _imagine_ what would happen if the most powerful entity on the planet caught him lying.

  "Aha!", Black Hat said as if he'd just uncovered a top-secret operation. "So you thought you could pull the wool over  _me?_ "

   Dementia smiled as innocently as she could. "Maaaaybe. OrI turned the thingy off on purpose to get the hero to come inside.  _Maybe_ I kept it secret as a surprise!"

   Black Hat considered her words and began pacing back and forth, the bags in his arms crinkling with every slight movement. "It seems to me that you and Flug have more in common than I had previously considered," he finally told her.

   Flug almost jumped back in surprise. He and Dementia,  _alike?_  What on Earth was he getting at?

  "Yes," the demon continued, "it appears that your primary instincts are to continue doing your jobs, no matter if it is necessary or not." He turned to the two of them, wearing a genuine smile. "Perhaps there  _is_ some potential in those thick skulls of yours, after all."

   Wait. Was this...  _praise?_

"Now, then, on to the task at hand," Black Hat said, adopting his typical businesslike voice. "Flug, bring the hero to the torture chamber. I'll want to deal with him later tod-  _ **What the devil?!**_ "

   The hero was gone, the only things left in his place being a mess of cards, some loose ropes, and 5.0.5, his head hanging down out of guilt.

   Black Hat took a few steps toward the bear as columns of flames shot up around him.  **"Don't think that this will stop me from torturing someone!"** He carelessly flung the paper bags behind him, one of them hitting Flug with so much force that he was knocked back against the counter-top, the bag bursting like a water balloon as its insides spilled out onto the floor.

   The doctor, trying to reach 5.0.5, slowly shuffled forwards, but his progress was impeded considerably by the pain in his body. Through all of the whimpers, death threats, and the ringing in his ears, Flug could make out a surprised squeal coming from Dementia.

 "Aww! You got us  _presents?"_ , she asked, her eyes brightening with childlike excitement.

  Those five words finally got Black Hat to stop what he was doing. He'd taken his hands off what could have been the bear's neck area and was now darting his eye back and forth between Dementia and 5.0.5, seemingly deciding whom he should kill first. After some kind of internal debate, he took a deep breath and crossed his arms. 

 "I have a... reasonable proposal," he said, glancing at the three of them in turn. "I will not speak of the  _godforsaken hero that got away,_ and none of you will mention those souvenirs." 

  Dementia grinned. "No worries. I already forgot about 'em," she said as she grabbed armfuls of merchandise off of the ground while humming a disjointed tune. Just as she picked up a mug with a lightning bolt on the side, everything that she was holding quickly turned into sand. She pouted as what used to be a pile of goodies literally slipped through her fingers, dirtying her already grubby clothes.

  Black Hat strode past them, kicking up the sand into clouds as he went along and earning a few sneezes from 5.0.5. "Excellent," he said with a chuckle. "Now that our problem is settled...  _get back to work!",_ Black Hat snapped, slamming the kitchen door behind him.

   _It looks like everything's back to normal,_ Flug thought. They didn't talk about the merch, Black Hat didn't talk about the hero (along with the party that Dementia  _obviously_ threw while they were gone)...

  And Flug didn't mention how their trip technically counted as a vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the end of this wild ride. What originally started as a "what if Flug and BH went to Comic-Con" idea turned into this crazy seven-chapter chronicle. I've been really happy with all the kudos and feedback I've been receiving. It really encourages me to write more stuff like this.
> 
> Thank you guys SO MUCH for reading. Bye!

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions, don't be afraid to hit me up on my blog at sillyvillains.tumblr.com


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